


What if This Storm Ends?

by CarlyTargaryen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, the 100 season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlyTargaryen/pseuds/CarlyTargaryen
Summary: Clarke is watching the new prisoners who have landed, reminiscing of seeing Bellamy again...Originally a one shot, but I'm continuing with my take on season 5. #Bellarke





	1. Unfinished Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfinished Business by Chairlift (title song)

She remained behind the tree line, watching Earth's new guests from afar.

The asteroid mining colony - the prisoners - had landed three days ago. 2201 days since she'd been left behind. 2201 days since the other delinquents had returned to the Ark.

She didn't blame them, not at all. She hadn't expected to live when she climbed that tower, hadn't expected to make it back to the semi-safe lab, hadn't expected the nightblood to allow her to survive the radiation.

Now, she was the Grounder. The only Grounder, aside from Madi, whom she'd left behind in the rover.

Now, she was the native, watching a group of prisoners descend from the sky. As she hid in the tree line, she could only think of the spear that had pierced Jasper's chest, before they knew they weren't alone, before they had become murderers, before the world had ended all over again.

This time,  _she_  watched the unaware intruders as they explored the ground.

They thought they were alone, just as she had. They thought they were free to roam from their metal cage, feeling the Earth for the first time: its soft air and delicate foliage. They tiled their heads towards the heat of the sun for the first time, just as she had. Just as they had. Just as he had.

Perhaps she was a fool to think he was still alive. To think they any of them were alive.

But she couldn't let go of the sliver of hope that had splintered its way into her heart.

Her heart. He was her heart. She knew that now.

The group continued to move farther from their ship, which had luckily landed in the meadow, one of the largest pieces of green grass that was left on Earth, at least from what she had seen in her six years since Praimfyra.

They were rejoicing, the men and women. She could hear their whoops and laughs from where she stood. It was almost funny, seeing some of the larger, horrifying men in their glee, so reminiscent of her own when they first landed on the ground.

The fear that swam in her belly was threatening to be overthrown by tears, though she wasn't sure why. Tears of joy to no longer be alone? Tears of fear? Tears for remembering her first days here?

She swallowed them and ducked toward a nearer tree, her rifle tight in her hands. The colony appeared to have no weapons on them, but that didn't mean they were unarmed, as the ship most likely held a cargo of ammo and weapons.

She let her fingers glide against the wood of the rifle, where she'd painstakingly etched each name of those she wanted to remember. One for everyday she was alone on Earth, until there was no one left to remember, until she had listed everyone she had ever known. It was weeks after that, when she was beginning to feel the hungry loneliness begin to eat her insides, when she found Madi.

She was perfect. A little ball of a human, the only living, breathing thing she'd had seen in years, gripping her legs to her chest behind a rock.

Clarke had broke down in joy. In hope. In memories.

Now, years later, Madi had become one of her only reasons to continue living, the other being her people in the bunker, and her friends who'd escaped to the Ark.

All of them. She missed all of them, dearly. She couldn't bare to think of what had become of them, after six years. They were supposed to be back by now. He was supposed to be back by now.

At night, when the Earth was as deathly silent as it had ever been, she let her mind wander. She had tried to stop it, but it was no use. She was alone on a planet that was supposed to be full of people, and the only way she could populate it was with her memories. Her memories of him. She fought them, fought them until she was sick, but it felt wrong to be alone in this place where they were supposed to be and not remember them.

There were times when she thought the only thing that kept humanity alive was her memory, and that thought hurt more than she could have ever imagined, but she couldn't let them go.

It was then, in those dark times when she was alone, with only the faint light of the stars and the moon to sing her to sleep, that she realized what she had been too distracted to realize before.

Bellamy.

Bellamy. How had she not seen it before? How could she have been so blind?

It wasn't until she was alone - so utterly alone, not running away, but the only one left - that it had begun to dawn on her.

All that she was, all that she'd ever been on this Earth, it couldn't be... not without him. He had always been part of her new life on the ground. He had been there from the beginning, even when she had hated him, even when, somehow, he had become her other half. After all they had done, after all they had faced, after all they had sacrificed, he had become part of her.

She hadn't realize it until that part of her was missing.

The heart to her head, the light in her darkness, the hope when she was hopeless.

He had been there all along, and she'd never realized... he was what kept her believing. He had been her strength when she was weak, and she had been his.

And now... now he was gone.

She clutched her riffle tighter, tracing the letters of his name where she'd carved it next to the trigger.

The colony continued their joyous reunion with the ground, running through the tall grass and tackling each other, laughing all the while.

Clarke watched them for hours, hidden behind the tree line, as they ran and yelled, laid and rolled, laughed and cried.

The sun had just begun to set when they finally began to organize themselves, whilst being awed by the pink and orange colors that the sky painted for them. She couldn't hear them, but she could clearly make out a commander ordering the men and women about.

Fire. Food. Water.

He'd placed them in groups, and Clarke began to worry that they would be venturing into her woods. Into her Eden.

But it was then she saw the commander signal to the ship, calling more criminals out into the meadow.

Four men emerged from the ship, heavy chains in hand, pulling, pulling...

And then she saw them.

She saw him.

The delinquents, pulled from the hollow belly of the ship, walking begrudgingly with their hands cuffed in iron.

Raven... Murphy... Emori...

Bellamy.

Alive.

_Alive._

She wasn't sure what happened next, or how she was suddenly was barreling down the hill, riffle slung over her shoulder, but she found herself standing in the glen, wide eyed and breathless, in front of horrified men and women.

And him. And Bellamy.

He looked as if the air had been stolen from his lungs, still as the death she thought had claimed him.

His hair was slightly longer than she remember, and a shadow of a goatee hugged his mouth, but other than that he was the same Bellamy she kept alive in her memories.

The colony of prisoners was scrambling, some running into the ship for weapons while the others stood shellshocked.

"Bellamy," was all she could croak out. It was a broken, desperate word on her tongue.

The colonists were yelling now, something about a grounder, but she could only hear a tight buzzing.

"Clarke," he answered, in that broken, heartfelt way he said her name.

And it was all she needed to hear.


	2. Petrified Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Title Song] Petrified Heart by Mt Warning

She raised her rifle and aimed at the bewildered men and women as they scrambled. Some stood in shock, while others ran into the ship.

"Grounder! Grounder!" they shouted, tripping over themselves.

Their commander stood solid, glaring at Clarke, no sense of surprise on his face.

"Don't move," Clarke instructed, aiming at their leader.

The man only smirked and held up a hand, signaling for his followers to cease their actions.

They slowed, staring at their commander as if he was mad.

For a moment, the Earth was as silent as it had been for the past six years.

"Told you so," Murphy broke the silence, shrugging in his normal nonchalant way. It made Clarke smile, tears of happiness brimming on her eyelids despite the situation. He hadn't changed, after all this time. It gave her hope.

"Shut up," the commander said simply, looking at Clarke expectantly. He was a stocky man, short but stuffed with hard muscle. His head was shaved down to the skin, and his brown eyes were so dark that Clarke couldn't decipher where the iris began and the pupil ended.

Bellamy stood rigid, as if holding his breath. He starred at her, and his gaze bore into her bones. A look wasn't supposed to do that. A look wasn't supposed to make her knees weak or her heart stop.

"Who are you?" she commanded, upholding her mask of confidence as she always did.

"Jarvis," the man said simply. Eloquently, even.

"Jarvis," she repeated, convincing herself not to glance at Bellamy or the other delinquents. "Where do you come from?" she asked, keeping her scope trained on him, even though she already knew.

The man, whose arms were crossed tightly around his chest, lifted a finger towards the sky. "Up there," he said, smirking.

Clarke flicked her eyes to the ship behind him. "Obviously." She clenched her jaw. It was hard to remember to breath, knowing Bellamy was so close, knowing her past was still alive. It had been so long ago, and she had been alone for so many years... there were nights she wondered if she was even alive at all, if any of it had actually happened.

She tightened her grip on her rifle and repositioned her feet, hoping her show of confidence would encourage the foreign man to speak more.

It did.

"Eligius," he paused. "A penal mining colony, before your time, dearling."

Clarke felt the knot in her stomach tighten. Clearly, this man knew about Skaikru. She allowed herself to glance at the delinquents, but not before scanning the colonists that stood silently around them.

Her friends looked relaxed, she could tell by their posture. They had been with these captors for awhile. Murphy whispered into Emori's ear, as Raven's gaze bore into Clarke. She glanced at Echo, who's eyes railed into the commander, and then to Monty and Harper, who stood close, with crossed brows as they looked at Clarke in concern.

Then she let her gaze fall on Bellamy, and her heart broke.

That look. The one he had given to hear so many times before. That look: of caring, of concern, of love. He starred at Clarke as if she was a ghost come back from the dead, but there was such grief in his eyes, such pain, such empathy.

And then she realized what it was.

Regret.

Clarke switched her gaze back to the commander, refusing to acknowledge the previous thought. "Obviously, you know where I'm from. Why are you here and why do you have prisoners?" she asked flatly.

She didn't want to reveal that she knew them, not if the commander didn't know their connection. She had to gauge how much he knew. She didn't want to risk these criminals using her friends as collateral. Or worse. She didn't want these criminals to know she cared about those they had in their grasp.

After all, love can be weakness.

The commander nonchalantly glanced back at his followers and the prisoners. His relaxation warned Clarke that he knew much more than he was letting on.

"Well, we wanted to come home. Happened to pick up these stragglers on the way. Our ship needed some repairs before we made it here, sorry it took so long." He turned his eyes back to Clarke, testing her. It was all a test, she knew, then.

She took a breath and let her weapon fall limp on her side, leaving a hand on it in warning. She needed to keep him talking.

"The ground lost contact with the penal colony long before the bombs," she said. "I always wondered why..." she made a show of glancing around at the criminals.

The commander smirked. "Mutiny, as it were, decided we wanted to come back to Earth. Didn't expect to find it so..." he glanced around, "changed. Last time we were here, there was 8 billion more people," he cracked a smile.

So there it was, just as she predicted. The penal colony had overthrown their leaders. She tried not to think of the wives and children that had gone along with the guards. Obviously, the prisoners had gained access to the cryochambers and had been in hypersleep. It was the only explanation as to how they could have lived so long.

"The ground has been taken," she warned. "The Ark already laid claim."

The commander smiled now, a full, knowing smile. "Indeed. That would be expected, as we have been gone for so long." The commander lifted a hand and curled his fingers in an order.

Two dozen and women spilled from the belly of the ship, weapons in hand.

Clarke could only watch as they filed into two lines, rifles all pointing at her.

"I am surprised to see you here, I must admit," the commander went on. "When I heard the earth had faced not one, but two apocalypses, I didn't believe that anyone could have survived."

Clarke stood firm, unfazed by the guns pointed at her. She wasn't sure all that the delinquents had told him, but they clearly didn't know about the bunker, otherwise they would have come down with guns blazing. They didn't know that she wasn't the only one left. She thanked her lucky stars that her friends hadn't told them about the others.

She was valuable. She was their key to the ground. They couldn't kill her now.

She hoped.

"I'm a survivor," she said, cheekily, glancing at Murphy, who had his cuffed hands wrapped around Emori's wrist.

The commander took a few steps towards her, believing he was entirely in control.

Good.

That's exactly what she wanted.

"And how is it, that after two apocalypses, you, alone, survived?" he asked.

Clarke rubbed her thumb over the names engraved on her rifle.

"I was lucky," she breathed, acting. This man needed to think she was not a threat. He needed to think she was a victim.

She glanced at Bellamy again, knowing she would find strength in his gaze, just as she used to, just as she always had.

And there it was, behind his dark eyes. His brows were crossed in worry, but he stood rigid. The look of concern on his face nearly made her knees buckle.

The commander cocked his head, "lucky? I know you were lucky enough to miss the first round, but the second?" the man nearly scoffed. "You're the last living human on this earth, and I want to know  _how_."

He really didn't know. They hadn't told him. They must have convinced him he was coming home to an earth that was dead and vacant, hoping that the people from the bunker would be able to defeat the prisoners and help them,  _free_  them.

The thought of her friends being prisoners again made her heart clench. After all the time they spent in those small cells on the Ark, after all the time not being in control, after all the time hoping and waiting...

"How?" she repeated cheekily, finding a new confidence in remembering how far she had come and all they were capable of when they were together. "The world may try to kill us, but there is always a way."

The commander was unamused. "Us?" he asked.

Clarke played coy. "'Us' as in humanity," she corrected. "Clearly you're still alive."

"I'm not interested in that," he said shortly. "I want to know how  _you_  are still alive after a wave of radiation." He waved his hand toward her friends, "they told me all about it."

 _Not all_ , she thought.

"Yes, I should be dead, like everyone else," she lied, "but I found a bunker from before the first death wave. It allowed me to survive and had provisions that were able to sustain me."

The commander nearly scoffed, "how would a bunker over 107 years old have provisions that would last long enough for you to survive, as you say."

"Isn't that the point of a bunker?" Clarke retorted.

The commander nearly smiled, "I suppose. Yet, unlikely."

Clarke only tapped a finger on her rifle in mock annoyance, "it does seem unlikely, doesn't it?" and she locked eyes with Bellamy.

She could feel the pieces of her heart as they broke.

Suddenly a shot rang out from the trees, striking a guard in the chest as he stood with his gun.

He crumbled as Clarke ran for the trees.


	3. The Night We Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I know this one is short, but I'm very busy at work this week with events and just wanted to post what I could. I'll write more over the long weekend!]
> 
> [Title Song] The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Bellamy couldn't trace where the shot had come from, but by the time he looked back at Clarke, she was slipping into the tree line.

Gone. Just as she had been before.

Gone. Forever.

Or, at least, she was supposed to be.

He hadn't fully comprehended what had just happened.

Clarke.

She was alive.

_Alive._

For a moment, it made him question if he was too.

How? After all these years... after all this time... He'd thought she was dead. For six years. He'd known she was dead.

But there she had been, looking at him, with the same crossed brows she'd worn six years ago, under a screen of glass, when she told him to hurry.

_"Bellamy... I was just going to say... hurry."_

The last time he'd seen her alive.

No, no.

The last time he'd seen her alive... was now. Was just a moment ago.

He realized, then, that he'd forgotten to breath.

He sucked in a breath and felt his chest tighten again. She had been there, in flesh and bone and blood, then gone, like a ghost, receding into the light.

She had been gone.

Gone.

Yet, somehow, after all of this, the end of the world and the end of it all, she had come back to him.

Just as she always had.

Bellamy cracked a smile for the first time in years.

"Find her!" Jarvis commanded, kneeling down next to the fallen guard. The man lay motionless, a lifeless form of a human.

Jarvis's other guards had begun to scramble again; some knelt toward the dead man, while others ran into the ship. The first line of guards obliged him and took off into the forest behind Clarke, but Bellamy wasn't worried.

She was smart, smarter than all of them, and this was her Earth. This was her home now, more than it was any of their's.

But he knew her. He knew what her plan was. He knew it the moment she locked eyes with him.

Rescue.

The thought made his stomach clench. Of course, Clarke would try to rescue them, just as she tried to rescue everyone.

But she didn't know what these criminals were capable of.

There had been another gun - another person - the one who had killed the guard whose name Bellamy did not know, surprisingly. As soon as the man had crumbled, one name burst in his mind:

Octavia.

She could be alive, if Clarke was; there could be others. Perhaps the bunker had sustained them as it was supposed to.

Octavia was never one for guns, though. Surely she would have killed the man with an arrow or throwing knife, but the mere existence of Clarke and the shooter, alive and well, on this dead Earth, gave him hope.

More hope than he'd had in years.

Everyday - 2,201 days to be exact - he'd told himself the bunker had worked.

But he couldn't say the same about Clarke's nightblood. He had seen it firsthand, the way her skin had reddened and how the blood had spurt from her lips.

He thought he'd left her.

Left her to die, alone.

And when they had waited for the comms to come back online, to see if she'd sucseeded, floating in a cold, hollow vessel in the vast of space, he'd thought it was over. For both of them.

That's when it hurt him the most: knowing he'd left her, only to die without her.

That's when he realized, if he was going to die, he wanted it to be with her. If he was going to die, if the world was going to end, if it was going to burn them all to ashes, he wanted to it to be with her.

With Clarke.

And after all these years, he thought she'd died without him. Alone, on an empty planet. The last living, breathing, beautiful thing to see the sky from the ground before it was snuffed out by the storm.

That thought, that image, had burned in his mind like an inferno. It branded its mark on the backs of his eyelids, refusing to be forgotten. Every time he lay down to sleep in the cold, steel box he called a room, she was there, waking him from his nightmares.

His nightmares of her burning.

"Get them into the ship!" the commander yelled again, invading Bellamy's memories.

He was flaying an arm toward them: the prisoners.


	4. 1,000 Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Title Song] 1,000 Years by Liza Anne

Bellamy was being pulled back into the ship by his shackles, connected to the line of delinquents. He nearly tripped, refusing to look anywhere but the hole in the trees where Clarke had vanished.

The guards who had ran after her had disappeared, engulfed in the Earth's foliage; it was green, bright, and alive.

How. How had they survived all this? The Earth, the delinquents, and  _her_.

He'd seen the planet from above: raging in an angry layer of flames, until there was nothing but stillness and silence.

Until the Earth itself was darkness and death.

He thought it slightly poetic, really. The end of the world, all over again. It reminded him of all the greek tragedies he loved so dearly.

Sometimes, he thought of Clarke and Icarus. He thought of how Icarus had flown so close to the sun, had shone so bright and beautifully, only to be snuffed out by the heat.

And then he'd think of Clarke in flames, after she'd saved them all.

Just then, Murphy shoved his shoulder into Bellamy's, pushing him forward into the ship's hull.

"Look alive," Murphy smirked.

The pun was not lost on him.

Bellamy jerked his gaze forward as he climbed up the ship's ramp, reminding himself his nightmares had been just that: nightmares.

Not truth.

The guards pulled them deeper into the belly of the ship, before pushing them each agaisnt the wall just outside the entrance to their cells. With their arms and legs wrapped in iron, there was nothing they could do but wait.

Four guards stood at attention, guns at the ready, five feet from them, awaiting orders, when Bellamy heard Raven whisper, "I can't believe she's alive..."

Bellamy kept his eyes on the guards, swallowing hard.

Raven leaned closer, "the Nightblood, it actually  _worked_."

He shot her a quick look, then nodded towards the guards in warning. Now was not the time.

Raven pursed her lips in slight annoyance and readjusted her stance as she leaned agaisnt the wall, shrugging.

A moment later, the commander was upon them, his face red in anger. Nearly as red as his man's blood that was smeared across his uniform.

Bellamy smirked.

In an instance, a fist collided with his stomach, forcing him to double over in pain.

"I told you: you and your friends would be safe if you told me the truth. You  _lied_." The commander forced Bellamy back up and slammed him agaisnt the wall. "You told me everyone was dead. You told me this Earth was as empty as the sad excuse of a space station we pulled your sorry asses from."

"I thought it was," Bellamy mumbled through the pain, soft enough that only the commander could hear him.

With the commander so close, and the echo of pain running through his abdomen, he couldn't help but think of his first days on the Gagarin.

The commander thrust him agaisnt the wall again, "you knew her. Who is she. She's clearly one of yours."

 _One of mine,_  Bellamy thought, almost laughing. If only. If only she had ever been his.

"Clarke," Bellamy growled through gritted teeth. There was no point in lying. The commander had heard her name slip from his lips like an untold secret.

He hadn't meant to say it. He was too stunned to think. But when he heard it: that soft way she said his name, as if it was a promise, he couldn't stop himself.

Perhaps it was a promise. Her way of promising.

All those years, she had promised him so many times... so many things... simply by saying his name.

"Clarke," the commander repeated, throwing him against the wall one last time as he retreated to eye the group in full. Her name on his tongue sounded wrong, as if he was stealing something that was never supposed to be his. Possessive anger began to swirl in the pit of Bellamy's stomach, telling him to protect her name from this man's lips, telling him he didn't deserve to say her name.

"She was supposed to be dead," Raven spoke up, clearly trying to pull the commander's attention away from Bellamy. He let his guard down slightly, grateful for the distraction.

"Well, she isn't very dead, is she?" the commander spat at her, "how. How is she alive when the whole world burned."

Raven shrugged, refusing to be intimidated by the man in front of her.

The man who had took his time as he tortured her for information three years ago. Who had took his time as he tortured them all, one by one, bit by bit.

"I have no idea," she said simply. "We left her for dead."

The words stung. He remembered that moment, staring down at the Earth as it glowed, a canvas of yellow and orange and red swirls.

It had almost looked like a sunset.

But while he watched the Earth burn, not knowing if Clarke had succeeded in reviving the comms system...

His hands had shook in regret, and nothing could still them.

They hadn't stopped when Raven opened the Ark doors, or when the oxygen had revived them, or when he had laid down his cold, empty cot to sleep amongst the stars again for the first time in a year.

He'd awoken that first night shivering, drenched in cold sweat.

_Cold sweat._

The thought had caused him to wretch, though there was nothing in his stomach. He heaved and heaved until his stomach ached and tears ran from his eyes.

He watched as they dripped to the floor beneath him, mixing with the expelled insides of his stomach, and he wondered if they were caused by the dry heaving or the memory of her.

Monty had found him the next morning, asleep on the bare floor, next to a pile of dried stomach bile. It had smelled horrible, but Monty ignored it, forcing Bellamy to eat what small provisions they had brought. Monty hadn't said anything, but his presence was enough to remind Bellamy he had a job to do. Even if he didn't want to, he had to live. She had died for them to live.

Bellamy hadn't wanted to wake. He hadn't wanted to eat, or sleep, or face another day.

And back then, he hadn't known why.

Why one death, of all the deaths he'd seen and caused, had made him feel as if his soul had been ripped from his body, plucked from each string that kept it tethered to him, one by one, until he was numb.

But he knew now.


	5. Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still writing! Just busy with work and summer!
> 
> Title: Ghosts - By Banners

Clarke knew these trees.

This was  _her_  land. Her Eden.

As she ran through the foliage, dodging, jumping and pivoting, she couldn't help but give in to the smile that was tugging at the corner of her lips.

Bellamy was alive, they all were.

And she was going to save them.

In the distance, she heard the echo of the colony's commander yelling at his guards to pursue her, but she wasn't worried. Her Garden of Eden may be small, but they were new to earth: new to the sun, the air and the ground. She remember what it was like: the overwhelming feeling of fresh air in your lungs, grass licking your ankles and the  _sound_. The sound of silence.

It was a sound she'd become very accustomed to over the past 6 years. At least until she found Madi. There were times the girl wouldn't shut up.

But Clarke never missed the quiet, never missed that constant reminder of being the last human on the ground.

As she was running, she leaped over the small creek that ran near their camp, where the rover was parked, and her rifle knocked agaisnt her side, a feeling she'd grown so accustom to it had become a comfort.

As she eyed the rover peaking through the trees in front of her, she caught a blur of movement in her peripheral.

Clarke breathed heavy as she tore through the trees into the small clearing the rover was parked in, but all she could do was smile as Madi stood before her, hitching heavy breaths herself. The girl clutched a pistol in her hand as if it was a childhood toy.

"He's here. They're here. They're back," Clarke huffed, trying to catch her breath.

"What?" Madi asked, perplexed.

"Bellamy. Raven. Murphy - all of them," Clarke could hardly contain her smile as she said their names. It was the first time she wasn't talking about them in past tense.

Madi instantly crossed her brows, "those guards with guns? Who had prisoners-"

"No," Clarke cut her off, " _the_  prisoners," she explained, then added, "again."

Madi's tense shoulders dropped and her brow smoothed, "you mean... everyone you told me about... the people you came down with... they're alive?"

Clarke felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of her throat and the core of her nose, and she knew tears were coming.

After all these years without them, she'd thought she'd cried all the tears that were left inside her.

"Yes," she nearly choked on the words. "Yes," she said again, more forcefully. "They are alive. That was them." She took a moment, remember the reunion. "Nice shot, by the way."

Madi smirked. It reminded Clarke of Murphy, as it always did. "Thanks," the girl said.

Clarke had been surprised to find so much of her friends in Madi. Perhaps she had been seraching, desperate to find some life she knew, but Madi was tough like Raven, sarcastic like Murphy, damaged like Octavia, and bullheaded like Bellamy. At least, like how Bellamy was, when they first had landed on the ground. He had changed, of course, throughout their time on the ground, and somehow, his heart had won out over his head.

That was the Bellamy that occupied her dreams every night. That as the Bellamy she spoke to everyday on the radio. For a moment, she let herself wonder how much he had changed in their six years apart. But in her gut she felt it, as if she was somehow tethered to him by an invisible string: though he'd been gone for six years, he was still Bellamy. The one that pulled the lever with her in Mt. Weather, the one that held her hand as she shut down the City of Light, the one that had kept her alive through it all.

She remembered their last conversation together. Their last real conversation together. She'd being trying to tell him... trying to explain... after her mother's vision, she didn't expect to survive. Clarke had placed her hand over his heart and reminded him to use his head, too.

And he'd looked at her so gently, with such softness, it was as if the world blurred around them, and he'd said, "I've got you for that."

Her heart broke in that moment.

For so many years they had been a ghost story she had told Madi. For so many years Bellamy, who taught her to love without her knowing it, had been her ghost, a ghost she'd begged to keep haunting her.

And haunt he had.

"How is that possible..." Madi trailed off.

Clarke raised her shoulders, "I don't know, not exactly. But I guess what I did... it worked. When I got the comms back online... it worked, they made it." She didn't realize how stunned she sounded until then. Normally, she was the cool, collected adult. She had to be. She had someone to take care of.

But suddenly she felt like a kid again.

"The guard you shot, those men, they have them prisoner," she explained. "We have to free them."

Madi nodded, never a question in her mind. These are the people - the heroes- she'd heard about for years. Every moment they were bored, every dark night when she couldn't sleep, any time she felt pain and needed something to take her mind off it. They were fairytales, her fairytales, a mix of kings and queens and princess and princes in their own right.

But Madi had always thought they were just that: stories.

Memories.

They were ghosts.

Suddenly, they were real. Flesh and blood and bone and skin that she had seen with her own eyes. When she'd been crouched in the trees, eyes on Clarke, watching the interaction, she had only seen enemies.

She was too blind to see her heroes.

Clarke took a step closer to the rover, swinging her rifle from her side and hanging it on the side mirror. She dusted the dirt from her pants and arms before turning to Madi again.

"We have to rescue them," she said.


	6. Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old Friend by Sea Wolf

[A/N: Now that we know the prisoners from the penal colony are from pre-apocalyptic earth, and were in hypersleep, I'm updating the past chapters to reflect that]

"Clarke, this is crazy," Madi protested as she watched Clarke rummaged through the back of the rover. "There's too many of them."

Clarke spoke from inside the rover as she dug, "yup."

Madi crossed her arms in defiance, though she knew Clarke couldn't see, "Are you agreeing that this is crazy or that there are too many of them?" she asked.

Clarke tossed a bag out behind her, which thudded as it hit the ground. Ammo.

"Both," Clarke answered, as she crawled backwards out of the rover, dragging a bag of guns with her.

Madi sighed, annoyed. But she wouldn't let Clarke see the truth, the excitement that hummed in her bones. Finally, finally they were going on a mission. A real mission. Like all the stories Clarke had told her before. Like when Bellamy had snuck into the Mountain. Like when Octavia had won the conclave.

"So, what's the plan?" Madi asked.

Clarke smirked, throwing her rifle over her shoulder. She knew. Of course she knew, Madi couldn't hide anything from her.

"There's too many of them now, but there's more of us. We just have to get them out," Clarke explained.

Madi crossed her brow in confusion, "but we've already tried to open the bunker - numerous times. It didn't work."

Clarke could hardly contain her smile as she said, "that was before we had mining tools."

Madi hesitated, "... but, we don't have mining tools."

"That penal colony was sent to mine astroids. That ship was  _built_  for mining, and so was everything on it." Clarke's face was nearly aglow with the idea, but Madi wondered if it was due to the thought of opening the bunker, or eventually saving Bellamy and her friends.

Probably both, she thought.

"It'll be easier to steal tools than people," Clarke went on, "once we've opened the bunker, we will have ten times the amount of people the colony has. Then we can get them back."

Madi smirked, "get them back. Don't you mean get  _him_  back?"

Clarke's face went soft, "I want them all back, Madi. All of them."

Madi rolled her eyes. How very Clarke, she thought. Though her savior who had found her, fed her, and trained her, was more like a sister or mother now, and though Clarke had told her story after story of her friends, she had never said the words that Madi assumed were true.

Those words. Clarke had never said those words. That she loved Bellamy.

And though Madi teased her about it, Clarke hadn't broken. It was as if she couldn't say it out loud.

It was as if the earth and the air didn't deserve to hear the words before Bellamy.

"Alright- all of them," again, she did her best to seem disinterested, but secretly she could hardly contain herself at the thought of meeting Raven or Octavia or Monty.

Clarke had told her how Bellamy loved the stories of some long dead heroes from a long dead civilization, who had barely touched this earth before they disappeared, and it wasn't until Madi realized she was going to meet her  _own_  long dead heroes that she understood how he had felt.

And for a moment she couldn't wait to tell him. Until she remembered she didn't  _know_  him.

But she felt like she did. From all of Clarke's stories. From the way Clarke had  _told_  her stories. How somehow they seemed to always come back to one person.

Clarke hadn't known it, and it wasn't obviously at first, but it didn't take Madi long to catch on.

It was as if all of Clarke's stories were full of stars and planets and space, but Bellamy was the sun.

Clarke knelt to rummage through the bag of guns, "it won't be easy. I don't know what kind of tools they will have aboard- or where they will be, but-"

"What if we can just steal one of them," Madi interjected, a strategy building in her mind. "They've been on the ship, they might know the weaknesses, they might know where the mining equipment is."

Clarke straightened, a look of pride leaking onto her face, "that would be ideal," she answered. "But difficult. And dangerous."

Madi only spun the pistol she held at her side and slipped it back into the holster on her hip, "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Clarke bit back a smile, "we will have to watch them for a few days, from different vantage points. We have to completely understand what we are going into, at least as much as we possibly can."

Madi nodded, blood pulsing in her veins as her anticipation swelled.

She didn't remember much of her childhood, only that after the deathwave had passed, she'd awaken in her family's cave, between the burnt echoes of her parents. She'd been too sick to move, too weak to think. It wasn't until weeks later that she had ventured out into the forest. She was so young then, it was a miracle she survived alone until Clarke found her.

Since then, all she had heard were the stories of the dead, and the dead earth, that Clarke told her.

And suddenly, they were going to  _save_  the dead who had been brought to that dead earth . The only people she'd ever known, whilst not really knowing them at all.

It was strange for Madi to think that those in the bunker and those in the sky didn't know her, when she knew them all so well, thanks to Clarke.

They were all she had known, really.

And there were times when she wondered what it was like to care for someone the way Clarke cared for Bellamy. Not in the way of worrying for their wellbeing, or if they were alright, she already felt that for Clarke, but that  _something more,_ that Clarke always had in her voice when she spoke of Bellamy. It was as if the memory was brighter, the world larger, the love stronger.

It was a different love than Madi had ever known.

Sometimes she wondered if the earth had pulled the ark to the ground just so Bellamy and Clarke would meet.


	7. No Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Rest - Dry the River

Clarke was perched in a tree top, just surrounding the clearing the penal colony had claimed as their own.

She could hardly see Madi, hidden in a tree directly behind the ship, across from Clarke's own vantage point.

The penal colony were scrupulous, but their naivety with the ground showed. Though they were used to receiving orders, and their commander was used to giving them, they weren't used to the ground. That much was clear. It was a much different Earth than they had left, over a hundred years ago.

Or perhaps Clarke and Madi were too familiar with the ground. Or what was left of it: their Eden, as they called it.

It'd been five days since she'd seen Bellamy & the delinquents. Five days since she'd see the dead raised from their graves and walk before her.

Part of her still couldn't believe they were alive, even as she waited for a glimpse of them.

She'd spent years trying to reach them, years trying to configure the radio to reach them - to reach anyone, above ground or below it.

She'd only received silence from both.

Nonetheless, everyday, she tried to contact them. Mainly the Ark, of which the radio was for.

Everyday she found herself talking to them, all of them, but slowly, as the days went on, her messages were only for one person.

Bellamy.

It had taken her quite a while to realize that the point of her messages was to contact him. That the point of her trying to contact them, while she was alone, was to hear his opinion, was to hear his advice, was to hear his voice.

It had taken her a long time to heal from Lexa's death. She had loved her, she couldn't deny it. Though Lexa had betrayed her, though Lexa and her had argued, though Lexa and her sought different paths; she had loved her.

But before she had a chance to recover, the earth was dying. She never had a moment to grieve.

It wasn't until she was alone - utterly alone - on Earth, that she was able to grieve, to be angry, to accept it.

And then, through all the radio calls that were left unanswered, she realized who she was yearning for, and what that meant.

Bellamy... he was the only one who understood. Since the beginning, he'd been there with her, as a leader, though they had their differences, he'd pulled the lever with her, he'd lead their people to salvation with her.

She'd never had time to realize what he meant to her, until he was gone. Until she was a head without a heart.

And now, as she sat in a tree top, rifle snuggled agaisnt her shoulder, she struggled to keep her mind on the plan.

Over the past five days, the delinquents had been put to work, often separated. But Bellamy was no where to be seen. Clarke didn't worry though, she knew he was alive, probably getting his brain picked clean by the commander.

The men and women were ordered to hunt, patrol, and set up camp. Though they kept watch, it was clear they weren't expecting anyone else.

Aside from Clarke and Madi, the colony thought they were alone on the planet they had left when it held 7 billion lives.

It was the patrol Clarke was waiting for. Everyday, just after daybreak, five scouts took a delinquent, clad in manacles, and made their way into the woods, armed to the teeth.

As the sun eased into the sky, painting the trees in soft yellows and pinks, the patrol strode down the main platform into the clearing.

Today's lucky delinquent: Murphy.

Clarke only smirked and signaled Madi with a birdlike whistle, something they had perfected to help find each other while they went hunting. She slung the rifle across her back and descended the tree, careful not to shake the largest branches.

Once on the ground, she noticed Madi out of the corner of her eye, twenty feet to her eye. Clarke nodded, and the two went on their pursuit.

* * *

The patrol was made up of three hulking women, and two men the same size. They were clumsy on the ground, crunch leaves and tripping over rocks, all the while clutching rifles in their calloused hands.

Clarke and Madi watched thirty feet away, hiding behind two trees. It was a struggle for Madi to hold in her laughter at the large, foolish guards as they explored the forest, but Clarke shushed her.

Murphy lagged behind them, disinterested and unamused. His footing was lazy as he trudged through the fallen leaves, being pulled behind a guard that held the leash to his manacles.

"I told you how many times now?" he said, annoyed, "I don't know this place. I don't know where we are."

The guard snarled and jerked the leash, causing Murphy to spill forward, barely able to remain upright. "Well ya better start  _knowing_  something soon," his captor spat, "else we're not gonna have any more need of ya."

Murphy only stared at him, anger clearly boiling beneath his pale skin. His cheeks were hollow now, and his collarbones protruded awkwardly from his low cut shirt.

Clarke figured it was as good a time as any.

She nodded at Madi, and the two danced between tree to tree, feet light as they closed in on their targets.

The approached from behind, closest to Murphy. The fools hadn't even assigned someone to guard their rear.

The first shots were all too easy. One bullet straight through a back, the second, a neck. Two bodies fell as Madi's victim collapsed into a heap of leaves.

The other two guards wirled, rifles eye level, fear written on their faces. Two women, both in their thirties.

"Guns down." Clarke commanded, letting her eyes flicker toward Murphy, who stood with his chained arms raised slightly, a smile pulling at his lips.

The women hesitated, both stealing a glance at the other.

In a second, a shot barreled through the air, hitting the tree next to wear Madi stood, and in the next second, both women were heaps on the ground.

Clarke released the trigger and lowered her rifle, glancing up at Murphy, who starred at her with his usual smirk. Six years and it hadn't changed.

His hair was shorter, shaved at the sides and longer on top, but aside from the thinness, he didn't look much different than what she remembered.

"It's about damn time," he smiled.

* * *

Once they had returned to the rover and successfully removed Murphy's manacles, they could finally talk. The three of them surrounded the back of the truck, with Madi perched inside the bed, stealing glances at Murphy in some starstruck wonder.

"We have to save Emori," he said flatly, rubbing his newly freed wrists. When neither Clarke nor Madi responded he added, "and the rest of them, too."

"Of course," Clarke nodded, that's our plan."

Murphy raised his eyebrow. "And also, who the hell is this?" he jerked his head toward Madi.

Clarke and Madi exchanged looks. "Turns out I wasn't the only Nightblood left," Clarke shrugged.

Murphy ran a hand through his hair, "so, two people survived the raging flames of hell and lived to tell about it? Damn, Clarke," he shook his head. "We thought you were dead. Well, we knew you were dead."

Clarke's eyes went soft as she said, "we're still breathing, aren't we?" and she smiled at her ward.

"And a smiling Clarke..." Murphy trailed off, "that's also new..."

Clarke rolled her eyes, "that's not important," she said, itching to ask him about Bellamy. "What's important is that we figure out how to rescue them."

Murphy crossed his eyebrows, "I thought you said you had a plan."

"Well we do," Madi interjected, "...kinda."

"Kinda," Murphy repeated and looked to Clarke.

"We can rescue them, all of them, with the help of the bunker," Clarke explained.

Murphy nodded and rolled up his sleeves, "okay, great. Where are they?"

Madi looked to the ground while Clarke sighed, "that's the problem... they are still in the bunker."

Murphy cocked his head in confusion. "In the bunker..." he trailed off.

"Underground," Clarke finished.

Murphy nearly choked, "they are STILL in the bunker?"

"Well, you were  _still_  in space," Madi mumbled under her breath.

"We can get them out," Clarke reassured him, "we just need tools... mining tools."

"You can't be serious," Murphy shook his head.

"I am," she said firmly, feeling like her old self again. "That ship was built for mining. There has to be some tools on it we can use to free everyone in the bunker."

Murphy kept shaking his head, looking disgusted. "Yeah. I've seen those tools." He ripped up his sleeve and revealed a garish, mess of a scar that ran form his inner elbow to wrist, twisting and jagged.

"But i've only seen them used on humans," he said.


	8. Agape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agape - Bear's Den  
> [pronounced: A-Gah-Peh, Greco-Christian term]

Clarke swallowed hard, staring down at Murphy's disfigured arm.

She'd seen worse. She'd experienced worse herself. But it had been a while; it had been over five years.

He quickly rolled his sleeve back down once he noticed Madi's wide eyes, but held Clarke's gaze.

"You don't want to mess with them, Clarke," he warned. "You're right, there's a lot more of them than us. But they're  _real_  criminals." Before she could respond he added, "they aren't us."

Clarke pursed her lips, remembering Bellamy's bloody face when they reunited after the Dropship.

"There's no other way," she protested. "We've tried to free the bunker. Numerous times. For years. Nothing. We need  _something_. We're sitting ducks without the rest of them."

Murphy sighed, frustrated, and ran a hand through his greasy hair. "And here we thought we were coming home to a planet full of people to fight them."

Clarke raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, "well you did, they are just still underground."

"Fuck, Clarke," Murphy swore, "we thought you and your crazy ideas were dead."

Clarke felt some knot pull tighter in her stomach, one she hadn't realized was there. "We?" she questioned, "you all really thought I was dead? No one received any of my radio transmissions?"

Murphy cocked his head and glanced between her and Madi, "Transmissions? No, Clarke. We heard nothing but radio silence the three years we were up there."

Clarke nearly choked on her words before she spat, "three years? You were only on the Ark for  _three years_?"

Madi sat up, wanting to be included, "you've been gone for six!" she reminded.

Murphy smirked at her, then back at Clarke, "you taught her math."

Clarke didn't budge, holding his eyes.

"Yeah," he gave in, "they intercepted us a little after three years. I guess they came back after all their communications with the ground and the Ark were cut off.

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows, "but they've been gone for over a hundred years... what took them so long?"

Murphy shrugged, "obviously they are the prisoners, not the ones drivin' the ship."

Clarke glared at him, sick of his sarcastic responses. She wanted answers. Now.

Murphy took a deep breath, "Look, I don't know. We don't know their story, not fully. We've only heard bits and pieces between..." he trailed off. "I know they didn't decide to come back until after they mutinied. They killed all the guards, the administrators, the families, anyone who came with them until it was just the prisoners left. Eventually they figured out how to get back here. By then, the Earth hadn't responded in years."

"So they... they went to the Ark?" Madi asked, stealing the words from Clarke's tongue.

"The Ark was their last correspondence," he explained. "Traveling through space takes a lot of time... they had cryochambers to sleep it while they came back but, for us, that wouldn't be until years or decades later."

"So they tortured you?" Clarke couldn't help but spit out. She wanted to know what they'd been through, what he'd been through. For years she'd had her own vision of the delinquents and grounders up on the Ark, living day to day in peace. Sometimes she'd let her mind wander... let it wander to where Bellamy thought she was dead, and how he'd grieve her, then, eventually, get over her.

It was the thought that hurt her the most. That, if he wasn't hearing her radio correspondence, then for six years he thought she was dead. That was enough time to grieve and accept it. That could be enough time to forget about her. Or at least forget his feelings.

Her feelings, she corrected herself. She never knew his feelings. By the time they left each other, again, she was still grieving Lexa and worrying about how to save the world and everyone she loved.

She didn't realize he was her other half until she was left unwhole.

Murphy almost looked annoyed as he gestured to his arm, "obviously. But what's one more torture scar? Just adding to the collection."

Madi shifted uncomfortably where she sat in the rover, but didn't back down.

"Why?" she asked, "why would they torture you. What did they gain from it?"

Murphy looked back at Clarke again, clearly impressed, "Well, you really did teach her some things." He looked back to Madi, "For intell. When they left Earth, it was still alive."

Madi glanced to Clarke, wide eyed, "they're from Before?" she nearly whispered.

Clarke nodded, the knot tightening again, "it seems so, yeah." She looked to Murphy, almost as a warning. "These... sky people, when they left Earth, it was Before."

Madi starred down at her hands, clasped tight together in her lap. She had never learned about the world before the bombs, not like Clarke had, or anyone from the Ark. For her, it was impossible.

Clarke glanced back to Murphy, "what intell?" she asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

He shrugged, "the Earth. The truth."

"And you lied," she concluded. From what she'd heard from the commander, they didn't know the truth about the grounders and the rest of Skaikru; they thought they were all dead.

"Of course we did."

"Through all the torture?" Madi asked, sounding younger than Clarke had ever heard her before. It made her heart drop.

Murphy just nodded, an echo of pain etched on his face.

Clarke shook her head, clearing her thoughts, trying to shake the feelings that began to weigh her down, "we still need to save them. They tortured you before, but now that their on the ground, who knows what they'll do."

And she didn't want to think what they'd do, but she worried. She hadn't seen Bellamy for days.

While the others were brought out to work, Bellamy had remained inside.

She'd seen Raven working on the outside of their ship, grabbing parts and tech she couldn't begin to understand, all while surrounded by guards with their guns held tight. Monty wasn't far from her, inspecting a gadget with other colonists. Emori, Murphy, Harper and Echo had been given either manual work or brought out on patrols. Either way, they had all remained separated.

Clarke knew he was alive. She could feel it just as she felt her own heartbeat, but knowing he was locked away with these monsters made her skin crawl and her stomach want to empty itself.

Most likely he was being interrogated about  _her_ , and who shot the guard. She'd thought about it for days as she watched them, stuck in a tree, itching to kill all of the colonists if it was only to save him.

She had never liked to kill. She had never  _wanted_  to kill. But after all she'd endured and done, sometimes with Bellamy at her side, she didn't feel any remorse when she considered massacring all the colonists.

Perhaps that's who she'd become, after everything.

But she hadn't done it alone, and she hadn't made the decisions alone, though they had all been, next after next, heart wrenching. She'd had six years to come to terms with them all, each one that'd left other lives in the dust. Each time she came back to the same word.

 _Together_.

They had always done it together. And even when they'd disagreed, it was towards the same end. He'd always been there. In hate, in violence, in love. He was her constant.

_Her constant._

Clarke swallowed whatever tears she felt burning up her throat, "it doesn't matter. The only way we can save them is to free everyone in the bunker. We've tried that ourselves. We've tried everything we have. We need their tools; they were meant for mining, and that's exactly what we need to get to them."

Murphy frowned, "look, Clarke. You haven't been able to receive the bunker in years. Is it really worth risking our lives to try to-"

Madi stood, immediately cutting him off, "she didn't know  _you_  were alive either, but she didn't give up."

A heavy silence hung in the air. After a few moments, Murphy just shook his head, "I want to save Emori and the rest of them. If this is the only way..."

"It is," Clarke said flatly.

Murphy sighed, as if all the air and fight within him was gone, "then so be it."


	9. Love Like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love Like This - Kodaline

The plan was stupid, if not a death wish.

But Murphy knew the ship like the back of his hand after living on it for three years, and better yet, the fools had begun to drag out the equipment that lived on the ship into their new makeshift tents in the glen.

Their plan was simple, survey the glen for days, steering clear of any patrols sent out into the woods, and watch for the removal of weapons and equipment from the ship.

The colony had increased their security after Murphy disappeared along with some of their guards. Luckily, they had not found the bodies yet, but it was only a matter of time, and Clarke new it.

"We don't have much time," she had said, instructing Madi and Murphy, "we have to scout the camp and find our target as soon as possible. Any day now they could find the bodies and it will put them on high alert."

Clarke didn't mention her fear for Bellamy's safety, as she hadn't seen him, but it was another reason for the time constraint. She had ask Murphy about him when they were alone later that first night, after Madi had fallen asleep in the back of the rover.

Murphy and Clarke sat next to each other, in front of a dying fire they had used to cook the rabbits they had hunted for dinner.

She broke the silence first, "what happened?" was all she said, holding the bones and thin meet of a rabbit on a stick in front of her.

Murphy shrugged, pulling the last bite of meat off the dead animal with his teeth and throwing the remains into the fire.

"We were up there for three years, got everything working fine. We had water, food. It was hard work, but it worked, which was most important. It was hell to be stuck with the same group of people for that entire time but... I would have rather had that for another three years than what we got."

Clarke threw the remains of her food onto the fire and tugged her knees to her chest, "What... did you get?" she asked slowly.

"The colony," Murphy said flatly. "They raided the Arc, took us as their own prisoners, expecting us to know everything that happened to Earth. Needless to say, it took a long time, but they finally got us to talk." He rubbed a scar around his wrist in memory, but Clarke didn't know if it was a scar from the Grounders or the Colonists.

"But you lied," she explained for him.

"Well, we didn't know if the people in the bunker had survived, and we sure as hell didn't think you were alive, so I'm not sure if we lied or just stretched the truth... No one told them the possibilities of the bunker surviving. We hoped when we came back to Earth, they'd be here to save us. But we also expected the worst," he shrugged again.

Clarke took a deep breath, swallowing all the new information.

"So they tortured you all, but you didn't tell them about the bunker?" she asked.

Murphy just shook his head. No.

"How is..." she hesitated, and took another breath, "how was Bellamy? With it all..."

Murphy leaned back from the fire and locked eyes with her, "not well, at first."

She felt her gut drop through her feet, as if she was made of stone and feathers.

She swallowed, "at first?" she asked.

Murphy ran a hand through his hair, as he always had. For a moment she felt like the past six years hadn't existed.

"He was... grieving you, Clarke," Murphy said simply. "He didn't want to be the leader. He could hardly function. He didn't leave his room for days. If it wasn't for Raven and Murphy I don't think we would have survived."

Clarke felt the rage of tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to spill. She stared at the fire, remaining silent.

"He survived, but he didn't care, he just wanted the rest of us to survive," Murphy went on, "everyone he cared about was on Earth. You, Octavia, Kane... I'm surprised he even got on the rocket in the first place."

Clarke smiled to herself. "He had to," she explained, "he had to use his head."

Murphy hesitated and then said, "don't suppose you have any alcohol?" he asked, rubbing his arms.

Clarke raised an eyebrow. "In that flask over there," she pointed to a bag beside to rover. "Monty taught me a thing or two."

Murphy smirked and got up, retrieving the flagon. He took a large swig and sat back down, offering it to Clarke. She took it and took two large gulps and passed it back, enjoying the burn in her throat.

"What was it like?" he asked, without meeting her eyes "being alone?"

Clarke felt wave of emotions pour over her at the thought, remembering the first months alone. It wasn't days she liked to remember.

"I didn't know if you all had made it to the Arc," she said flatly."I didn't know if the bunker had survived. I suppose I still don't." She reached out for the flagon again, and Murphy obliged, handing it over. She took a large swig and kept it in her hands.

"I thought I might be the last person alive," she said a loud for the first time. She'd never expressed her fears to Madi when she found her, she didn't see a reason to. "So I used the radio. Everyday. I tried to reach you guys on the Arc. Eventually I tried to bang on the hatch of the bunker for some response, but the Deathwave had caused a huge collapse of buildings in Polis and I couldn't reach them." She took another swig and let the alcohol warm her belly before she said, "all I had was the hope that you had made it to the Arc, that I had turned on the Comms in time, and that the Bunker was sealed."

Murphy didn't say anything, just stared into the fire and reach his hand out for the flagon.

Clarke handed to him and continued, "I was alone for a long time, and I didn't think I would be able to last five years, but then I found Madi." She glanced to the sleeping hump of a girl in the back of the rover. "She's the only reason I kept living, Murphy."

Murphy glanced up and caught her gaze, boring his gaze into her as if he could read her mind.

Clarke looked back at the fire. "I thought of all the ways to kill myself," she said quietly. "I had found one gun that worked. A rifle. I thought about shooting myself with that. I thought about jumping of a cliff, like Charlotte. I thought about letting some feral animal that hard survive finish me off." The words were spilling from her mouth faster than she could think.

Murphy took another large gulp of the flagon. "Yeah. I know the feeling," was all he said.

Clarke glanced at the rover again, "but then I found her, and... suddenly I had hope that you all had survived. In the Arc. In the bunker. If she could survive, why couldn't everyone else?"

Murphy handed her the flagon. "He was a mess without you, Clarke."

Clarke accepted the drink, but only held in it in her hands, feeling her fingers constrict around the flagon. "Who?" she asked, knowing the answer.

Murphy cocked his head knowingly, "you know, Clarke. Bellamy. He wasn't himself for months. He stayed in his room. Wouldn't help us, couldn't help us. We got the algae farm up and running ourselves, like everything else."

Clarke felt her heart breaking, but she refused to let Murphy see it.

"He was broken without you, Clarke." Murphy said bluntly.

Something broke in her chest and she bit back a sob.

They sat in silence for a few moments as Clarke collected herself. Then she broke the silence, "we have to rescue them, and everyone in the bunker."

Murphy nodded, "Yeah. We do. They have Emori. They have everyone. We need to break them." There was an edge of malice in his voice.

"Then we need a plan," she began, but Murphy cut her off.

"I already have one," he said.


	10. Onwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onwards by Francis Moon

[A/N: Apologies for the long absence. Between NaNoWriMo, work and the holidays I haven't found much time to write, but now that the holidays are over I'll be back at it! I know this is a short one, but I was too excited to post again!]

Clarke was perched in a tree, hood up, rifle situated between two branches.

The scope looked down on the colonists, dragging out equipment from their ship, pitching tents with tarps and patrolling the boarder of their small glen. The colonist were smart enough to keep their weapons onboard, but she watched as they dragged machine after machine from the belly of the ship.

Her stomach was tight, knowing their plan was stupid if not foolish, but that it was their only choice.

 _Only choice_ , for a moment she was transported back to Becca's lab, feeling Bellamy's gentle touch on her face, a _n oxymoron._

Then the image was gone, just as quickly as it had come.

The plan  _was_  their only choice to survive, without the group in the bunker, Clarke, Madi and Murphy were nothing but sitting ducks, waiting for the colonists to come hunt them down.

Her conspirators were in their own positions; Madi perched in a tree of her own, not far from Clarke, ready cover her when the time came.

Murphy had begrudgingly agreed to the role of "the distraction."

"They have this thing called a Jackhammer," he'd explained two nights before. "It can break into solid ground, it powers itself, and it's the smallest piece of machinery they have. Realistically, it's the only thing we could steal."

"How do you know about it?" Madi had asked.

Murphy looked uncomfortable, unfamiliar of how to act around a girl of her age. Or perhaps he could only think of Charlotte.

"They, uh," he raked a hand through his hair, "they threatened us with it, a few times." He shrugged, as if the details of his torture was something he could simply brush off with the expression.

Madi only glanced back to the flames of the cookfire they sat around.

Clarke felt her lungs empty, reminded of Bellamy's absence, and what that could mean.

"So, you've seen it work?" Clarke asked.

Murphy just nodded in his slightly annoyed fashion.

"And it could break open the bunker?"

Murphy sighed, "It's the only option we have."

Only option. Oxymoron. Her stomach clenched.

* * *

Bellamy spat.

It was a mix of saliva and blood, swirling on the metallic tile beneath him.

By his count, it was his fifth day chained to a chair in the commander's room. But he had no window or clock to gauge time, so he doubted his own assumptions.

"They killed THREE of our own," the commander reminded him again, as the man wiped Bellamy's blood from his fist. "What. Are. They. Planning? I know you lied to me."

It was the same question he'd been asking Bellamy for five days. Over and over: fist after fist, cut after cut, bruise after bruise.

The commander was as ruthless as he was distrustful.

"I told you," Bellamy repeated through a clenched jaw, "I don't know. I don't even know who  _they_  are."

Secretly, he hoped the other shooter was Octavia, though guns had never been her weapon of choice. But he still had hope.  _Someone_  had been with Clarke that day, and it only made sense that it was someone from the bunker.

"And Murphy," the Commander continued with his usual questions, "why would they take him?"

Bellamy had thought the same thing. He smirked, "with that one, your guess is as good as mine."

Murphy wasn't by any means  _not_  useful, but Bellamy imagined he hadn't been Clarke's first choice. Only one logical explanation came to mind: convenience.

"If those grounders think-" the commander began before he was abruptly cut off by a commotion of bullets and shouts outside the ship.

The commander stopped dead. "Bring him," he instructed the guard that hovered behind Bellamy before tearing from the room.

Bellamy was jerked upward, hands still bound, and thrust forward. Half running, half dragged, he made his way through the corridors of the familiar ship until he emerged onto the exit ramp in the belly of the ship. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust to the brightness of the sunlight.

Guards surrounded the glen, rifles at their shoulders, ready to fire, while the other colonists scurried about with no real destination. Raven and Monty knelt near him, some hunk of twisted metal in front of them, grins alive on their faces.

"FOLLOW THEM," roared the Commander, surrounded by eager informants. Instantly, teams of guards took to the trees.

Bellamy stood on the exit ramp, watching the camp try to regain its composure.

Suddenly Emori was beside him.

"They were here," she smiled. "John and Clarke. They stole something - I don't know what."

Bellamy felt his stomach turn, in excitement or worry, he didn't know. Clarke had been here. Again. She really, truly was alive.

Suddenly he knew why he felt sick, not because of the commotion or fear, but because she had been here, and he had not. He had missed her, again. They were always being separated, missing each other just barely. It was an endless chase.

When he saw her in the glen just days ago, with the sun illuminating her golden hair as if it were a halo, he finally thought that their great game of chase had ended.

But it had just begun.

* * *

"Get in the rover!" Clarke bellowed. She'd successfully hauled the jackhammer into the back of the vehicle, and had been waiting for Murphy and Madi to meet her at the rendezvous point.

She'd spotted them both on opposite sides of the rover as she sat at the wheel. Murphy slid into the back just moments before Madi lunged into passenger's seat.

"Hit it," Madi yelled as she slammed the door shut, and Clarke stomped on the gas, feeling the rover jerk to life beneath them.

Shots rang out behind them as Clarke swerved through the trees, but none punctured the metal exterior.

After a few moments, the distant gunshots had been swallowed by the sound of the engine.

They'd made it.

"WOO," Murphy cheered from the back, hitting the roof of the rover. Madi laughed, wearing the largest smile Clarke had ever seen on her.

Clarke grinned back.

"We did it," she tried to contain her excitement. "Next stop, the bunker."


End file.
